A Christmas Gift
by Lyggy
Summary: As the Dark threat increases, Harry and Hermione are left alone in Gryffindor Tower over Christmas. Who knows what can turn up in the dark?
1. News

**Chapter One**

_Attention:_

_Due to increased threat of Dark attack, all students will be sent home by Hogwarts Express THIS Friday, December 15th, and not December 22nd. Students are advised to notify their families of this change._

"So we miss the exams?" asked Seamus Finnegan eagerly in Transfiguration.

"For the last time, yes!" snapped McGonagall as the bell rang, signalling break. The class cleared up their kiwi feathers (or fruits, in Hermione's case) and slowly filtered out. Harry hung back; Ron and Hermione hovered near the door.

"Er- Professor?" he began awkwardly. "About this whole... evacuation-"

"Yes, Potter, I needed to speak to you about that," said McGonagall. She glanced up. "You, too, Miss Granger. You may listen if you like, Mr Weasley."

Harry and Hermione took seats in the front row; Ron nodded, looking rather sheepish.

"Now then," continued Professor McGonagall, "Professor Dumbledore believes that the six who entered the Department of Mysteries last summer are in greatest danger. You three in particular, Harry most of all. The Headmaster fears that the Dark Lord will try to use you to get to Mr Potter."

Hermione nodded grimly. Ron looked horror-struck.

"What we want above all is to keep the six of you safe: as Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna come from wizarding households, they can defend themselves should the worst come to pass. You two-"she looked at Harry and Hermione- "can under no circumstances return to Muggle-inhabited areas. Even if you stayed under lock and key for the entire holiday, you would be exposed while using Muggle transport."

"Sorry, Professor," Ron broke in, "but I'm sure my mum would be happy to-"

"It is out of the question, Mr Weasley," said McGonagall. "Dark wizards are tracking you. If four of their targets were in one house, it would be like blasting fish in a barrel to them."

"Oh, so it's all right for him to get me and Ginny?"

"Don't be silly, Mr Weasley. Your parents will provide sufficient protection. But four of you would be too many."

"I can fight!"

"Enough, Weasley," said McGonagall in a tone of finality, "It was Professor Dumbledore's decision."

"Where will we go, then?" asked Hermione.

"You and Mr Potter will be staying here at Hogwarts," replied McGonagall.

"But we'll be the only ones in the school!" Harry exclaimed.

"Nonsense, Potter," scoffed McGonagall, "Most of the staff will also be staying."

"But-"

"No 'but's, Potter, the Headmaster's word is final."

And they filed out. Ron looked pensive, Harry annoyed; Hermione's expression was inscrutable.


	2. Worries in the Night

**Chapter Two**

"What the hell was that about?" Harry exclaimed as they left the Transfiguration classroom. "I mean, it doesn't make sense! We're no more targets than the rest of you!"

"You know that's not true, Harry," said Hermione quietly.

"Yes, well," he fumbled, "of course he's out to get me, but why – and no offence here, Hermione – why doesn't Dumbledore want anyone else around? What difference is another four?"

"You might want to keep it down, mate," warned Ron. People were starting to stare.

"Harry," pleaded Hermione, "I know what you're saying, but Dumbledore hasn't been wrong yet. There must be a reason for it..."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't-"

"Hiya, Harry!" Ginny Weasley was walking up the corridor. "Ron, Hermione... Hear about the holidays?"

"Have you?" asked Ron darkly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well of course I have, Ron. Will you two will be spending Christmas with us?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. "No-o," said Hermione carefully. "We're staying here."

Ginny looked from Hermione's worried face to Harry's indignant one, taken aback. "Just- the two of you?" she asked with a frown.

"Yeah," said Harry forcefully. "Dumbledore's idea."

Ginny's expression instantly cleared. "Wonder why," she said.

"That makes two of us."

Hermione lay awake for a long time that night. She was going to be spending the whole holiday with Harry - just Harry. She remembered how bored he'd been last time they'd been together for so long. She'd always known, somewhere in the back of her mind, that Harry preferred Ron's company and that hurt. He was so upset at the thought of being with her for two weeks.

It was at that point that she realised that tears were blurring her vision. She rolled over, pulled herself together, and fell asleep with a single thought spinning in her head: _this is going to be awkward_...

Ron, too was having trouble sleeping. Worrying thoughts about Harry and Hermione had kept him awake before, but now it looked like he had a reason to be afraid. Harry must've noticed - _surely_ he'd noticed- well, he would soon enough. A little burst of jealousy contorted his face and then it was gone: nothing had happened for over a year, so why should he worry now?

But why couldn't he believe that?


	3. Bitter Words

**Chapter Three**

Harry's anger had subsided somewhat by the next morning. He felt betrayed – it was so pointless, and if there was a reason then nobody was letting him in on it. He had really been looking forward to spending Christmas with the Weasleys; they hadn't actually asked him but a few comments Ron had made in passing implied that an invitation was forthcoming. Hogwarts food was no substitute for the wonderful warm feeling a week with the Weasleys left him with.

Ron and Hermione were in odd moods, he noticed groggily over breakfast. _Probably fallen out about something_, he though glumly, and was immediately shocked by his own reaction. "What's wrong?" he said aloud, in an apologetic tone that made his best friends frown as they broke out of their reveries.

"Nothing," said Hermione and Ron at the same time. Harry stared between them with the niggling feeling that he was missing something.

"You're very quiet this morning," he said, to neither of them in particular.

"So are you," said Ron.

"Yeah." Harry stared into a jug of orange juice until a letter dropped into it. Even through the liquid he could make out Hagrid's handwriting – addressed to him; the school barn out that had delivered it soared out of the Hall. "Hagrid wants to know if we're free this even-"

Something large, grey and fluffy splashed into the jug.

"_Errol_!" Ron groaned. He groaned again when he opened the letter (which had landed in his lap). "He must have passed Pig on the way. It's a letter from Mum. She wants me to ask you to if you want to come over for Christmas." There was a snarl in that last bit. Ron stuffed the letter into his pocket and began attacking some toast.

Hermione and Harry didn't know what to say. Harry unfolded Hermione's _Daily Prophet_; Hermione busied herself with reviving Errol.


	4. Realisation

**Chapter Four**

By Thursday, Hermione was privately in bits. She'd had... something of a crush on Harry for almost a year and a half now, but never dreamed of finding herself in a situation like this. To an outsider, it might have seemed like the perfect chance for her to make a move on Harry, but instead she was dreading the departure of the Hogwarts Express.

Surely Harry would see through her without the distraction of Ron or Quidditch or exams. At least during term she could make an escape if she thought she was letting her guard down, whether it meant picking a fight with Ron or doing some homework.

--------

Harry, meanwhile, had got over his initial frustration at being left behind. Besides, some alone time with Hermione wouldn't be so bad. He felt as though they'd been drifting apart a bit over the past few months. He at least had Quidditch practise with Ron.

As Harry said good night to Ron that evening, he felt a little stab of residual bitterness at the thought of the Weasleys – a mental picture of enjoying Christmas without him raised its head. And then he remembered the distant air Ron and Hermione had had over the past few days. Of course, they'd miss each other as well...

He felt a little prickle in his mind, as though he was side-stepping around some huge truth he'd never noticed before. The thought released itself like the bursting of a dam; Harry gave a little gasp and blinked. _Ron and Hermione_ – how had he managed to avoid seeing it? It had been glaring him in the face for so long.

But why hadn't either of them said something? Feeling a little frown crease his face, he decided that he wouldn't mention it until Ron or Hermione did. Maybe Hermione would say something during the holidays.

Maybe.


	5. Voices

**Chapter Five**

Harry went straight to the dormitory after Potions on Friday afternoon. After thinking about it, he had come to realise that he didn't really want to believe that Ron and Hermione were- were... that they didn't really need him. But why this was so upsetting? He couldn't say.

But he _could_ say that their goodbyes were bound to make it obvious that they were an item – a display that he wouldn't be able to avoid or play dumb about.

_Why was he so upset?_

It wasn't jealousy, he was sure of that at least. He just didn't think about Hermione that way. Or-

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Ron entered the dormitory, looking puzzled. "What're you doing up here?" he asked. "Hermione said you were in a right hurry to get out of the Common Room. Something wrong?"

Harry forced a knowing look into his eye. "Hermione said that, did she?" he grinned. "Nah, I'm a bit tired."

Ron performed a kind of facial groan. To Harry's horror, he felt a little stab of animosity when said, "At least _you'll_ have Hermione. I don't fancy spending the whole trip with Ginny."

A despised voice somewhere in the deepest, visceral regions of Harry's brain said, _But _he_ has Hermione the rest of the time._

"It's only a couple of weeks," reasoned Harry. He kept his face hidden. It was going red; he couldn't think why.

What was going on? Was he jealous – and why? Why couldn't he stand the idea of Ron having Hermione? Why couldn't he bear the thought of Ron bettering him? It had been the same with the prefect badges last year.

This was going to be more difficult than he imagined

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Okay, big thanks to everyone who reviewed –sorry I can't name everyone who asked for longer chapters but I either keep it concise or I ramble. It's a problem. :

RmGuccione: thanks for the tip – but I believe 'realise' is acceptable in the UK (where I am). You're right about the rest though. :P

Have to stop here, something very exciting's just happened.


	6. Alone Together

**Chapter Six**

"Well, bye then," said Ron sheepishly.  
"I'll send loads of owls," grinned Harry.  
"It's so stupid, though," Ron burst out pleadingly.  
"Yeah, I know."

And then everyone was gone, and the school was empty, and any footstep on the stairs echoed in the Common Room. Harry was still in his room, cringing in bitter realisation of what he wanted, and what he couldn't have. He felt as though his bones had turned into snakes; he was flushed and sweating a little; he wanted to hit something but he didn't know why.  
And he was angry, very angry.

He was still sitting on his bed, staring at the floor, twisting the bedcover very hard when Hermione came in.

"Harry?" she said timidly.  
Harry glanced up in horror. He dropped the duvet corner; it had torn a little.  
"Hello," he said, his voice oddly strangled. He dropped his chin into his hand, covering some of the area scarlet skin she could see.  
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You didn't come down to the Common Room to see everyone off."  
"Not really in the mood for it." Harry gazed out the window, over the forest.  
"You're still upset about being left behind." But the way she said it, it could have been a question.  
"Sorry I keep going on about it."

There was an awkward moment. They'd never had one before, Harry mused. Why did he have to ruin everything? Why couldn't that voice in his head have stayed silent?

"Well, it could be worse," said Hermione. "You could be stuck here with Malfoy."  
They laughed. "That would be pretty awful, wouldn't it?" said Harry.

What was he on about? This was _Hermione_. They'd always got on well. How hard could it be to hide feelings he'd only had for an hour? Maybe at some point he'd be able to ask how long Ron and Hermione had been a couple.

"Very."  
Hermione sat down on the bed beside him. And then an opportunity reared its head.  
"It'll be weird with Ron gone."

Harry knew it was now or never. He choked the words, reluctantly forcing them out in a stab at the casual, "So, how long have you two been..." he made a odd, vague gesture, somewhere between a shrug and a wave.

"Me- and Ron?" Hermione frowned.  
"Er... going out, sort of thing?"  
Harry was sickened with himself. He should never have opened his mouth. He could practically feel the heat radiating from his face.  
And then Hermione's expression cleared.  
"Me and Ron? Harry - we're only friends. You _know_ we're only friends." Harry couldn't help noticing what a nice laugh she had. "What would put that into your head?"  
"Oh – er – I don't know... I just thought... Sorry," he finished lamely.  
The silence was awkward again.  
"Well, if you two ever do-"  
"We won't," said Hermione. "Definitely not, I can promise you."  
"But... if you do..."  
"You'll be the first to know."

Hermione laughed again and headed for the door.  
"I'm going to go get changed."  
"Right. See you."

AN: I thought I'd better mention the very cool thing that happened to me yesterday and made me cut the chappie short: I had posted a theory of mine on a Discworld site and the actual Terry Pratchett came on and said it was right.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, it's much appreciated. Keep it up and I'll keep it longer!


	7. Potions Homework

**Chapter Seven**

Hermione's heart was hammering as she descended to the Common Room. She was still recovering from the iron butterflies being around Harry always gave her, but felt exhilarated too. How long he had thought she was going out with Ron? He seemed relieved just now. Maybe there was hope after all...

Her words were still ringing in Harry's mind. He'd obviously misconstrued something totally innocent. But even if Hermione _wasn't_ with Ron, that didn't mean she was interested in Harry.

He changed into Muggle clothes and headed for the Common Room with his bag; they had quite a lot of holiday homework to make up for the missed exams. It was nice to be able to spread out over as many tables as he liked, but he kept getting distracted. _What am I going to do?_

Upstairs, Hermione was having an internal battle. She'd just love to swan downstairs in something ridiculously revealing, but if her hope was a blind hope, it could ruin everything. Instead she wore a figure-hugging t-shirt that showed off her curves and a pair of jeans. Now that they were alone, now that she had one end of every conversation all to herself, she could do a little probing...

Harry turned when he heard a footstep on the stairs. He cleared his throat nervously. "That's a nice top," he managed. It had been much easier with Cho. No, wait, it hadn't. He hadn't spoken to Cho much before that Valentine's Day from Hell. In his _mind_ it had been much easier with Cho. What was he doing thinking about Cho now anyway?

Hermione smiled. "Thanks." Harry shifted some books and she took the next available desk. "So, what have you started with?"

He held up a Potions book with a wan smile.

"That was _evil_ of him," said Hermione. "Four rolls of parchment on dragon blood!"

"We don't have enough notes to write four rolls," Harry despaired. "Why did I take Potions for NEWT anyway?"

"At least you _know_ what you want to do after Hogwarts," sighed Hermione. "I'm at a total loss."

"I thought you were going to be an Auror!"

"Yes, well..."

"You'd be brilliant Hermione, you really would," said Harry sincerely.

"I'm not much good at fighting, though," she said. "Remember the Department of Mysteries?" she added in a hushed voice.

"Yeah." He hadn't thought a lot about how much Hermione's near-death had affected him. Sirius' death had been too raw for him to even consider anything else that happened that night. "I was terrified. I thought you were dead... and anyway, even if you were an Auror, you could do the investigative stuff, like Kingsley."

"He has to fight sometimes, though," said Hermione. She was fishing for compliments and she knew it.

"You were the best by far in Dumbledore's Army."

"No, Harry," she said, looking him straight in the eyes so that both their hearts fluttered, "I'd never have been the best. You know that."

In a vain attempt to break the tension, Harry said a little gruffly, "I'd never have been any good without you. You found most of those spells."

"But you can actually do them," said Hermione.

"Pity I can't do this essay though."

And they got down to work.


	8. Opening Up

AN: I really can't make them longer without rushing the story. Sorry! But I'll try to move it along quicker.

Russetwolf 713: See, there's a metaphor in there somewhere… (".)

magicpens: Thank you!

**Chapter Eight**

After the initial awkwardness, Harry began to calm down in Hermione's company. But as silence descended, Harry's troubles sprang back to life in his mind. He tried not to look at Hermione; when he did, colour poured into his face.

Hermione had long ago learned to control her outward emotions, but noticed Harry's anguished glances in her direction. She began to lose the thread of her essay. She hardly dared think about it. The question: _Could he..?_ kept spiralling through her mind.

"Enough of this," said Hermione, dropping her quill. "Fancy a game of chess?"

"Great idea," said Harry, glad not to be the first to quit.

They took to one of the wizard chessboards in the corner of the Common Room. "And I'm nowhere near as good as Ron," laughed Hermione as her bishop beat Harry's king senseless. He was disgusted to feel a little stab of jealousy every time Ron's name was mentioned. Hermione made a mental note and said, "I'm going up to get ready for bed."

_No no no ,_moaned Harry's brain, as he, too, went to change into pyjamas,_ Not Hermione, why did it have to be Hermione?_ It was anger and pain, embarrassment and despair... this couldn't be love. Love wasn't supposed to turn you into a wreck – was it?

When Harry stepped into the Common Room five minutes later his jaw hit the floor. She was wearing a very revealing lacy confection. A fire was burning in her eyes; her expression was odd – a little shy, a little daring, her head tilted a little.

Behind the scrap of fabric she wore, Hermione's heart was drumming against her ribs but the look in Harry's eyes told her that she'd guessed it right. She advanced.

"Funny, really," she said casually. "Five years of friendship and suddenly... everything changes. You _know_, don't you?"

"Kn-know what?" stammered Harry. He barely dared believe it. Amazement and glee exploded in his heart all at once.

"Harry…" The fire was softer now, her voice was gentle, her lips were against his in a hungry, searching kiss. Harry kissed back, overwhelmed with happiness and struck by sudden desire.

It was better than Hermione had ever imagined: why on earth had Cho cried? Harry was a wonderful kisser. She knew she was jumping the gun by wearing the negligee, but it was either that or her old flannels and she'd wanted to get his attention. Leaning in to kiss him was one of the scariest things she had ever done, but feeling him return the kiss made all the pain and longing of the past year seem worthwhile.

And then it was over. "How long have you felt this way?" Harry asked.

"I don't know…" she cast her mind around. "End of fourth year, I suppose. You?"

"Erm- about three days."

Hermione looked stunned, as though he'd slapped her. "You mean-" she began slowly.

"I mean I didn't realise it," he added hurriedly.

Hermione flopped onto a sofa. Her world seemed to be falling away around her feet. Harry didn't love her. It was just a spur of the moment thing.

Seeing her expression, Harry gave up. "I thought you and Ron were... and then I realised that I didn't want that. I was jealous. I was as stunned as you are. And it hurt _so much_." He reached out tentatively and took her hand. She didn't resist. "I never felt this way about Cho."

She smiled a little. Maybe this wasn't what she'd planned, but she could make the best of it. She could tell herself it was going to last forever; perhaps a few weeks would be enough.


End file.
